


Awakening Before Christmas

by princessofthorns



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fashion & Couture, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28333308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofthorns/pseuds/princessofthorns
Summary: Fashion designers Sansa and Margaery are both very competitive - which is the main reason why they’ve hated each other ever since they began working together.When Margaery gets Sansa’s name on the company’s Secret Santa, she is determined to give her the most incredible gift possible, aiming for it to be better than whatever Sansa will give to whomever she’s gotten.Little does she know that she is the person Sansa ended up getting, and that great minds think alike is not just a saying.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 26
Kudos: 105





	Awakening Before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> [Photoset.](https://bachianinhaone.tumblr.com/post/638583143486636032/awakening-before-christmas-fashion-designers-sansa)

**December 10th, 2020 - Secret Santa draw**

Sansa felt restless - and it was all Margaery’s fault.

She shouldn’t feel like this; she was in her element. 

Through her office’s window, she could see the snow falling, its glow almost magical under the moonlight. Even though she had moved to the Eyrie, capital of the Vale, to work at her very aunt’s fashion house, _that_ was what reminded her the most of her home.

The winter and the snow, the month of December and the sense of union; the feeling of warmth amongst the low temperatures that only the Holidays could incite.

Yet, there she was. She had advanced on her design for the spring collection - it was gorgeous, and she couldn’t wait to show it to Lysa. It was seven p.m, her favorite time of the day, when it was still appropriate to be at the office but the workload had slowed down considerably, and she allowed herself a cup of hot chocolate while she read - reread - one of the short stories she’d written.

It was cozy and the Christmas decorations were everywhere and she was supposed to be at ease - if it weren’t for the fact that she felt so, so defeated.

“Hey, girl.” Myranda forwent knocking, as usual, as she invaded Sansa’s office. She took a look at Sansa’s computer and raised her eyebrows. “Wow, you must be really pissed at Lysa for picking Margaery’s design to close her Fashion Week show.”

“What gave it away?”, Sansa didn’t bother denying it because, well, Margaery had _won._ Her clothes had won, and her dress had won the most important moment of the most important event of the year - and she was always pissed whenever Margaery won.

“The fact that you are writing in the middle of the day.”

Sansa frowned. “We are not in the middle of the day. Besides, I write almost every single day, you know it’s a hobby of mine. It relaxes me.”

“Exactly,” she exclaimed, throwing herself on a small couch. “Well, not _exactly._ I know writing is a hobby of yours, but I also know it doesn’t _relax_ you,” she said through a chuckle.

And again, Sansa didn’t deny it because - it didn’t. She’d been writing short stories for years now, and it was indeed a hobby - she was a designer by profession, and it was her passion and she had no intention of changing that. Still, she did love to write and the fact that she hadn’t succeeded in any of her attempts to get some recognition for her writing frustrated her more than she could say.

Because, yes, she was good, and she very much enjoyed it when people acknowledged when she was good at something. But mostly because her stories came from her heart, just like her clothes did, and she wanted people to see that too.

“But I know it distracts you, and you hardly ever get yourself distracted in office,” Myranda concluded, and Sansa sighed.

“Did you see the look on her face, when Lysa told us she had picked her?”

Myranda laughed, “She didn’t pick _her,_ she picked Margaery’s design.”

“Still,” Sansa stressed. “I know you’ll say something like ‘modesty sends its regards’, but I genuinely think mine was superior to hers, and now this will only be a whole new reason for Margaery to think she’s better than me.”

“Oh, Gods,” Myranda rubbed her face on her palm. “This little feud between you two has been going on for three years now and it’s the most ridiculous thing,” brown eyes snapped at Sansa, accusingly. “ _Y_ _ou_ are the most ridiculous thing.”

Perhaps, at the beginning. Before Sansa had moved to the Eyrie, she had always been the best at everything she engaged herself into. The best daughter, sister and friend, yes, but also the best student, artist, and professional - even if she had never actually been a professional before working for her aunt.

Still, she was expecting to be the best when she arrived at Lysa Tully Designs. She hadn’t prepared herself for anything else, so when she met Margaery, dimpled, perfect hair and perfect face Margaery, who everybody loved and who managed to succeed in all she did and be the center of attention all the time, well - she hadn’t prepared herself for that either.

And perhaps Margaery hadn’t prepared herself for Sansa too. Because she had been nothing but lovely to Sansa - and it had been reciprocal because Sansa might be immature and jealous but she still knew better than to treat nice people badly - _at first._ Until Sansa had begun to steal some of Margaery’s spotlight - Sansa truly was talented.

And somewhere along the way, the disputes were increasing, and the competition would get tighter, and before she knew it-

Sansa found herself disliking Margaery. Disliking her irritating smirk and her condescending tone, and how she teased and poked; how she was as competitive as Sansa but, somehow, tricked all of their friends in common into thinking Sansa was the sole aggressive part while Margaery just swam along as if it were just a fun game to her.

And she had most definitely disliked that day, over two years before, when Lysa had chosen Sansa, of all people, to accompany her on a short business trip to Lannisport, and Margaery had _joked_ to their co-workers, “Well, I don’t know why any of us expected to have the honor to be invited. It’s clearly a _family_ affair!”

“That’s her strategy,” Sansa rolled her eyes, standing up from her chair, looking down at Myranda’s bored eyes. “She has everyone thinking I’m the neurotic, driven one and that if it were up to _her,_ we’d be the best of friends.”

Myranda giggled, and went to her feet, kneading one of Sansa’s shoulders. “I’m afraid you really do have to relax,” she nodded at Sansa’s computer. “Tell me what your story is about.”

“Oh,” Sansa gazed down at her feet. “It’s about a girl, uh, named Alayne. It’s a Christmas tale. She works for Santa, making clothes for the children.”

And she looked up to see Myranda’s frown. “Isn’t that the one you were writing last Christmas? And… the one before that?”

Sansa shrugged, feeling a blush creep up her neck. But then Myranda declared, “Let’s go to the reception. We’ll be drawing the Secret Santa’s names in a little while.”

Sansa’s mood was automatically lifted by the prospect of it, and she couldn’t help but feel a little excited when she and Myranda left the room. Even as they passed by the glass door of Margaery’s office, and she narrowed her eyes at the sight of the brunette who sat graciously in her chair, the phone pressed against her ear.

“Well, it’s not surprising at all,” her grandmother’s voice was loud through the phone. “Of course she chose you, you are the best there is in her little company.”

Margaery smiled, even though those words didn’t sound like a compliment, coming from her grandmother - they sounded like a stated fact, even the way she called the luxurious, most prestigious fashion house in the country _little._

“Well, thank you,” Margaery mocked, holding the phone between her face and her shoulder so she could draw a mark on the lilac piece of fabric on her lap. “The show will take place in the second week of January, but I did convince Lysa to let me spend Christmas at home. My flight will leave on the 23rd-”

“Don’t be silly,” her grandmother cut her. “I know just well how intense your workload will be now that you will take over the old hag’s place at that show,”

“Grandmother, I’m not taking over-”

“Only so she can take credit for your designs, but I figure that’s the pattern when one is at the beginning of their career,”

“She won’t be taking credit for it, though, she-”

“But you are twenty-five so I imagine you should not be at the beginning of your career anyhow,” her grandmother continued, and at that Margaery went quiet.

“So you cannot, under any circumstances, travel east to south solely for what? Watch your father swallow an entire turkey leg in two bites or stare at those hideous Christmas lights your mother will hang above our heads? Absolutely not.”

“It’s Christmas, grandmother,” Margaery spoke, slowly. “Forgive me for daring to consider it a moment my family would require my attendance.”

“Oh, enough with that. You cannot give Lysa any reason to complain about you - let me remind you that you are not her relative. Besides, your brother Garlan will be spending the Holidays in New Barrel with that social climber fiancée of his, and your parents have just booked a flight to Queenscrown. And as you know, Loras is eagerly and impatiently confident that the editor-in-chief of the Stormlands Review, you know, the one he’s been dating for _three weeks_ will invite him to spend Christmas with him in Storm’s End.”

“Wait, so it will only be you, Willas, and the kids in Highgarden?”, Margaery asked.

“Yes.”

Margaery sighed. “You weren’t even planning to spend Christmas with the family, were you?”

Her grandmother dismissed it. “I’m sure you will find a warm distraction on the 24th. I will go back to work now. Send me an e-mail with all the details about the show, I will buy my plane ticket tomorrow.”

Margaery allowed herself a weak smile. “Alright. Goodnight, grandmother.”

And then she sat back on her chair, sighing again. She found it hard to concentrate back on the fabric in her hands, and she had just placed it on her desk when Missandei, Lysa Tully Designs IR representative, opened the door.

“Hey,” her friend smiled brightly. “What did your grandmother say?”

“She congratulated me in her own way. I guess,” Margaery chuckled.

Missandei smiled even wider. “I’m sure all of them are very proud of you. Will you be leaving on Wednesday?”

Margaery’s grin faltered. “My grandmother doesn’t seem to think it’s a good idea for me to go.”

She said nothing else, and yet golden eyes were filled with understanding as Missandei looked at her.

Margaery couldn’t quite remember the last time all of her family had spent Christmas together, and at some point, it had begun to make her upset. Sure they were all busy, but most of the time it truly seemed like none of them cared about reuniting on the Holidays anymore.

And it hurt her because she missed them. She was still very much close to Loras and her grandmother, but the time and the distance had drifted her away a bit from her oldest brothers and her parents - talking to them was natural and easy, but she missed seeing them in person, missed knowing all that was happening in their lives and vice-versa.

She missed her nephew and her niece so much, Willas’ twins. Margaery had been twelve when they were born, and they all had lived under the same roof until the day she’d moved to the Vale. She had the most curious connection with them - she felt like a sister, an aunt, and a mother altogether.

She missed them, and she missed her home. Missed Christmas with her family; there were no snow fights and they would always order dinner rather than actually cooking it - but they were still all together, and it was full of laughter, of Willas’ dogs dressed in Santa clothes and lots of Arbor Gold; The Frozen Shore - a 70s band - Christmas songs playing in the background and heartwarming presents. And she missed all of those too.

But apparently, she was the only one who did, and there was not much she could do about it.

“I’m sure the Secret Santa will cheer you up. More than you already are, I mean”, Missandei offered her hand, and Margaery realized that that could be something she could look forward to.

They were the last ones to arrive at the reception, to which Rhaenys Targaryen, one of the company’s retail buyers, teased, “Glad the princesses finally honored us with their presences. Let’s get this going.” Rhaenys was also the one who organized the Secret Santa every year.

“Marge!”, the sweet masculine voice called and she grinned. Satin Flowers, the second best designer they had, after Margaery - okay, maybe _third_ best, if you counted Sansa - had been away all day, visiting a client.

He embraced her in a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you!”

Margaery rubbed his back as they separated, “Oh, thank you.”

“Lysa will drive you more insane each day until the show, but it will be worth it all the same.”

“Will the boss at least let you go home for the Holidays, Marge?”, Nymeria Sand, Rhaenys’ cousin from Merchandising asked.

“Yes,” Margaery grabbed a pen from her purse. “I won’t go, though. I figure there will be a lot for me to do here and-”

“Well, it’s not like you will be missing anything, right?” Sansa Stark was leaning against one of the receptionists’ counters and her voice was unimpressed. “When was the last time your family received you for Christmas anyway?”

If it had come from anyone else, it would’ve come across as authentic curiosity to Margaery; but it had come from _Sansa,_ and Sansa was never curious about anything regarding Margaery. She hated her and hated Margaery’s design being chosen to close the show, and she had meant to provoke her.

Margaery didn’t hate Sansa back, though. She hated how Sansa was almost as talented as she was, yes, and she kept her distance from the redhead who disliked her so much, but it was difficult to hate Sansa.

It was difficult to hate her when she was that tall, and for the way she towered over Margaery when she wanted to intimidate her. It was difficult to hate her when she had those eyes, those enormous blue eyes that were so warm and thoughtful when she was talking to anyone who wasn’t Margaery - and that would always turn to stone whenever they did catch the sight of her.

It was difficult to hate her when she had _that_ smile, that was always genuine and sweet - again, before she had to smile at Margaery and her pink lips would only curl into a smirk.

It was difficult to hate her, but so, so fun to pretend as she did.

Most of the time, that is. Because at that specific moment, Margaery felt like Sansa had been a bit too mean. And she hadn’t expected it, and hated herself because she was sure that her face had shown it for a second.

But then Rhaenys handed her a piece of paper, and Margaery lowered her head to write her name on it.

After Rhaenys had gotten the names back from all the twenty-something people in the room, she threw them all inside of a bowl and shook it.

When Margaery pulled a name from the bowl, it had taken all within her not to roll her eyes.

 _Sansa Stark,_ written in feminine, curvy handwriting.

She wondered if there was any way she could discreetly place the piece of paper back in the bowl and pick another. But Rhaenys was too far away, and she wondered if she could maybe claim to have gotten her own name and ask to switch it. But then she realized everyone had already gotten a name.

_Shit._

“Okay, so, as usual, the Secret Santa will be taken place at our Christmas dinner, on the 19th at 20h. If you have suggestions or want to organize it, hit me up or inform us on the group chat,” Rhaenys declared.

As soon as she’d sat on the front passenger seat of Missandei’s car, Margaery announced. “I got her. Her. Can you believe she wrote _Sansa Stark_ as if _Sansa_ were so common we would actually need a surname to identify her?”

“You were not supposed to tell me!”, Missandei protested while inserting the key into the ignition.

“You’re right.” Margaery watched her out of the corner of her eye as she started to drive. “Who did you get?”

Missandei merely snorted, and Margaery rubbed her temple.

“I think I’ll just give her the most ordinary gift. A best-seller, or a scarf.”

“Give her a nice gift,” Missandei pondered. “It will make it easier for you two to make amends.”

“I don’t want to make amends,” Margaery retorted. “Did you hear what she said about my family?”

“Yeah, that was unnecessary,” she agreed. “But that’s another reason for you to give her something great. Show your superiority-”

“Oh my Gods, you are right!”, Margaery exclaimed. “Imagine if she’s picked Myranda or someone else she truly likes, she’ll give them the most incredible present of the party, perhaps something they’d always wanted or something very surprising that will leave everyone in awe, while I’ll be the one to give her a standard one? You’re right, I can’t let this happen.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Missandei chuckled. “But I guess the end justifies the means.” 

“What should I give her, though?”, Margaery mused.

“You need to give her something meaningful,” Missandei affirmed. “Maybe the original hard copy of an old, rare book she loved in her childhood?”

“That’s oddly specific,” Margaery argued. “I know it’s just an example, but I don’t know her favorite childhood book. I don’t know anything about her,” she paused for a moment. “She does have that dog, right?”

“Lady.”

“Yes.” Margaery recalled the gigantic grey dog Sansa had brought to the atelier a couple of times. “Perhaps I could give something _to_ her dog. Dog owners love that, don’t they? And it would be cute.”

“Yeah”, Missandei was uncertain, shooting her a glance. “Still…”

“It wouldn’t be enough,” Margaery finished. “Then what should I get her?”, she pondered once again, more to herself than to her friend.

She was still asking herself that by the time Missandei had left her at her apartment building. Still thought about it over the dinner she’d ordered, still wondered under the shower. She kept on weighing on it by the time she’d come to bed, and it had taken around twenty minutes for her to question herself that again after waking up on the next morning.

By the time she got to the office, she knew what she would have to do. She would have to ask for help; she would have to ask Myranda.

But Gods, she didn’t want to. It was not like she didn’t like Myranda, quite the opposite; she found her very fun and a great company overall, but it was just that Myranda was the most untrustworthy person when it came to keeping a secret, ever. There was a reason why Margaery would always come to her whenever she wanted to hear more details about whatever gossip was being spread in the office, and under any other circumstances, she would not have trusted her in knowing the person she’d gotten on Secret Santa - especially when said person was Myranda’s best friend.

But a part of her was confident that that was what would make Myranda keep her mouth shut - the prospect of seeing Sansa’s surprised face once she discovered Margaery’s unbelievable, never done before, spectacular gift.

If she got to that.

Margaery was just near the coffee machine, talking to Podrick from Human Resources when she saw Myranda leaving Sansa’s office. She politely dismissed him and went on her way towards the short brunette.

“Myranda!”

Through her glass door, Sansa watched the interaction between her friend and Margaery in suspicion. But it was over quickly, though, with them merely exchanging a few words before going on separate ways.

As soon as they were gone, Sansa pushed the dress and the scissors away and rested her face in her hands.

_Gods._

It was the first time she’d seen Margaery that day, and it only served to remind her of what had been torturing her since the night before.

Twenty-two. That was the number of co-workers she could’ve gotten in the Secret Santa’s draw. Twenty-two.

Twenty-two people who _weren’t_ Margaery, and yet-

The thought of it had crossed her mind, in the last three Secret Santas. The possibility of getting Margaery’s name.

She had thought about it before, prudently, and had decided to give Margaery something nice, of course. She would never be childish enough to give a sloppy present at a Christmas celebration only because she didn’t get along with the other person in a professional environment.

Not that Sansa and Margaery had any relationship outside work, but still.

So when she’d read Margaery’s name on that piece of paper, she’d felt a bitter taste in her mouth, before recognizing that there was nothing she could do about it.

She had revised her options. She’d noticed Margaery often wore jewelry from a retailer headquartered in the city, she could try to get something down there. She’d also once heard Margaery talking to some of their friends about how much she liked to dance, so she could maybe buy her new ballet shoes.

And she remembered Margaery once sharing in the group chat how much she enjoyed the _Alyssa’s Tears_ musical, displayed at the Moonway theater - perhaps she could give her two tickets as a present.

She hadn’t even stopped to think how strange it was that she knew so much about someone she didn’t even talk to until realizing that she would need to do more. Because of, Gods-

That comment she’d made, about Margaery’s family… she shouldn’t have said that. She’d gone too low, and Margaery had seemed upset for a second, which had surprised Sansa.

The remark had just left Sansa without her planning it, and she’d felt bad afterward - not to mention how once again she’d fallen into the narrative of Margaery being the charismatic good-natured one while Sansa ended up to be the bitter, competitive one who took things a little bit too seriously and reacted a little bit too harshly.

She knew what she had to do, though. She had come to have the idea of the very best, most amazing present, that would sweep Margaery off of her feet and have everyone else shocked _and_ make up for what she’d said. 

She had the perfect project in hand - the only problem was that it would be too much to do. She would need help, and she just couldn’t bring herself to trust Myranda to support her without letting anything slip by to anyone, especially considering that Margaery would not be the only one affected by what she was planning.

Yes, she would need a lot of help, which was why she found herself knocking on Missandei’s door at her lunch hour.

Her office was properly decorated with garlands and little snowmen and Santa gifts, and Sansa found it endearing.

“Hey, Sansa! Can I help you with something?”, Missandei greeted her from behind her computer, indicating the chair in front of her desk.

“Yes, uh”, Sansa began, taking her seat. “Missandei, I won’t even ask you not to tell anyone, because I know you would never,” Missandei was quite literally the exact opposite of Myranda, “But I got Margaery’s name on the Secret Santa.”

“Oh, that’s so great,” Missandei said with a smile, fingers still typing.

“Yes, and, as you know,” Sansa chose her words attentively, “Or maybe you don’t know, I don’t know. Well, I’m very harsh with myself and I always aim my work towards achieving the best results, and-”, she sighed, “I was a bit mad yesterday - at myself! - for not being chosen to close the Fashion Week show and I let it all out on Margaery.”

Missandei continued to type but offered Sansa a facial expression that managed to say in a still polite way, _yes, and you were a bitch for it._

“But I have an idea,” Sansa resumed, “One that I think will make Margaery happy, and would also solve another pending question,” she tapped the desk a few times, “Only… I would need help.”

Missandei was slowly stopping her typing when she required, “Okay, tell me.”

She explained her entire idea and felt relieved at the way Missandei seemed fascinated by it. She affirmed she would be able to help since she’d already bought her Secret Santa gift the night before, and Sansa thanked her a dozen times.

Everything would be good. Her present would be the best gift ever given in all Secret Santas. Better than whatever Margaery could possibly give to the person she’d gotten, that was for sure, more creative and meaningful and Sansa would no longer be seen as immature or petty regarding her beef with Margaery and everyone would have fun.

The prospect of all of it made her excited, and she almost, almost, didn’t mind that much when she passed by the cafeteria and saw Margaery and Myranda sharing their lunch at the same table.

“So I’ve decided to use this as an opportunity to make amends. Sansa and I are past the point of playing into this nonsensical rivalry that will take us nowhere.”

“I completely agree,” Myranda said, after drinking a sip of her orange juice. “I was just talking to her about it yesterday, it’s so dumb and honestly, no one can take it anymore.”

Margaery nodded. “Exactly. You know, perhaps it was a sign. Picking her name.”

She couldn’t care less about conciliating with Sansa. She was fine with the way they were, and she was still a bit angry about the night before. But she needed to say what Myranda wanted to hear.

“Promise not to tell her?”, she asked her for the third time.

Myranda rolled her eyes, “When have I ever told anyone something I was not supposed to?”

Margaery took a bite of her grilled chicken before announcing, “I don’t need you to tell me what to give her. I want you to tell me a little about her, what she likes, so I can get to a decision on my own.”

“Okay.”

Myranda looked up and rubbed the back of her head, pensive. “She likes figure skating. She used to practice more when she still lived in the North.”

“Really?”

Margaery had always wanted to learn how to figure skate, but she had never been able to find a teacher back in Highgarden since it wasn’t a common sport at all in the south.

“Yes. She likes to sing, keeps trying to drag me to karaoke nights. Sometimes she manages to, but I think she regrets every single one of them,” Myranda chuckled.

“Is she good?”, Margaery asked, and Myranda nodded eagerly.

“She’s good at everything she does. It’s kind of annoying. And it’s funny that that’s the exact thing she hates about you,” she revealed, and Margaery smirked.

“She loves her dog,” Myranda carried on. “In fact, she broke up with her ex-girlfriend because she didn’t like Lady.”

Margaery’s eyes widened. She had absolutely no idea Sansa had had a _girl_ friend. No idea.

It had never crossed her mind, but once it did…

She found it hard to focus on what Myranda was saying, “She loves riding horses.”

“So do I.” That was another thing Margaery missed about home. Traveling to Willas’ country house - she was no countryside girl, but she’d always loved riding and Willas’ raised the most gorgeous horses back there.

“Yeah, I think it’s her sister’s influence or something. Oh, she’s very attached to her family,” she added, looking right into Margaery’s eyes.

Before concluding, “And she loves to write.”

“Write what?”

“Short stories,” Myranda replied, and then added in a lower tone. “But that’s a delicate subject.”

Margaery frowned, “What do you mean?”

Myranda clicked her tongue. “It upsets her. I think she’s tried to get published before, in some magazines, and if I’m not mistaken she used to have a writing blog as well. But she never got the feedback or recognition she hoped for. It’s a touchy thing to talk about with her.”

For a second it seemed like Myranda was wondering whether or not she should keep talking. And she did, “I think she even doubts her own competence sometimes. She keeps rewriting the same stories, like this Christmas one she finished two years ago.”

Margaery hummed, “She’s not that good?”

“I think she’s very talented,” Myranda shrugged. “I just think she relies on the opinions of others and hasn’t had the right opportunity to show it.”

And Margaery was stunned because - that was it.

She knew exactly what she would have to do, and it would be easier than she could’ve ever predicted. Well, it _could_ be.

“Myranda,” she called her name carefully. “Do you know the password to Sansa’s computer?”

The glint on Myranda’s eyes let Margaery know she’d had the brightest idea when she decided to talk to her.

**December 13th, 2020 - Group chat**

**LTD - SECRET 🎅🏽 OPEN YOUR WALLETS!**

  
  


**Rhae 🌝 - 13h54**

Are we going to be sending our gifts through the mail 💀

Bc the draw was 3 days ago

And NO ONE has stepped forward to offer to organize the confraternization

  
  


**Pod from HR - 13h55**

I’ll talk to Satin

To see if he wants to do it again

  
  


**You - 13h57**

…

What?

  
  


**Pod from HR - 14h00**

I MEAN

Gods Margaery

I mean if he wants to organize the party again like we did last year

🖕🏽

  
  


**You - 14h01**

Oh lmao

**Nym 🔪 - 14h05**

NO

No more Satin organizing any christmas dinner

We’re past that

Last year was ridiculous

No offense Pod

  
  


**You - 14h05**

Satin not organizing the dinner will not prevent you from getting a dildo for SS this year again Nym

  
  


**Nym 🔪 - 14h06**

No but why would you remind me of that

  
  


**+55 81 98198 2733 - 14h09**

@Margaery Tyrell hahaha

Guys don’t worry

Missandei and I will be in charge of it, we’re planning it already  
  


**_Private chat - Misss 🦋_ **

  
  


**You - 14h10**

Dude

Why are you planning our dinner with Sansa???

Why didn’t you tell me??

Does she have a grip on you

  
  


**Misss 🦋 - 14h29**

Hey!

…No?

I overheard her talking about wanting to plan it and I offered to help

I’ve never organized a Xmas party before and it seems fun

  
  


**You - 14h38**

Okay…

I guess

Did you see her laughing at my joke?

She’s weird

  
  


**Misss 🦋 - 14h43**

It’s the Holidays spirit

Anyway I’m gonna go to sleep

See you tomorrow!! 🤎

  
  


**You - 14h51**

???

Bye

**December 19th, 2020 - Secret Santa**

“Lady, stay quiet!”, she commanded while trying to get her dog into Santa’s outfit.

It was not the first time Sansa went to the atelier on a Saturday; but it was the first time she was that tired, certainly.

She had arrived at two p.m and had cooked all day. Missandei had arrived four hours before to help with what was left to do and with decorating.

As usual, the Christmas dinner would be in the large cafeteria, and once they were done Sansa had left to pick up Lady - thankfully they lived only ten walking minutes away from her work building, so Sansa hadn’t had to bring her with her when she’d first arrived earlier that day. Missandei had watched Lady while Sansa had taken a shower in Lysa’s office bathroom, and Sansa had finished her hair and makeup while Missandei herself went up to get ready.

And they were lucky the reception was quite so big and comfortable since that was where everyone was going to wait before actually moving to the cafeteria.

“Oh, look how adorable she looks!”

Missandei stroked behind Lady’s ears.

“Yes, and you look so pretty,” Sansa pointed out. Missandei was wearing a fancy long-sleeved silver blouse and a golden skirt, as well as high heels of the same color.

Sansa had chosen a light blue, long and loose dress, completely discreet if it weren’t for the slit that exposed her left leg.

“I can say the same about you. Now listen, why don’t you go downstairs and guide them here once everyone has arrived? Lady is the best girl,” Missandei chuckled, petting Sansa’s dog. “But I don’t think we should leave her alone here with all the food and the oven on.”

“I was thinking the same thing, which was why I was going to suggest staying here.”

Missandei shot her a knowing smirk. “Do I need to remind you that this,” she pointed around, “Is _your_ gift?”

Sansa sighed. She most definitely did not need it; Sansa was fully aware of it. It was the reason why her stomach was flipping and she tried and searched for excuses to stay at the cafeteria a little longer even though she knew full well people were waiting.

She had been nothing more than formally polite to Margaery in the past couple of years, but now she had to give her an overwhelming gift and she felt awkward.

She had been determined to shock Margaery with the thoughtfulness and brilliance of her gift, but now she was slightly afraid of what people might think of the amount of effort she had put into it, and of the possibility of Margaery mocking her for it.

But that was irrational. Perhaps a week before, she would’ve thought it made perfect sense, but now, for some reason, it didn’t feel like something Margaery would do.

She knew exactly what the reason was though, but she forced herself down the stairs before dwelling too much on it.

“Hey! Can we come up now? We’re starving,” Rhaenys greeted her immediately.

Sansa took a look around and would normally guess everyone was there; around twenty people standing around the reception, a couple resting on the couch and the chairs. If it weren’t for one specific person that wasn’t there.

“Uh, is everybody here yet?”

“No. Dayne,” Edric, one of the models who worked for LTD, “Is on his way. He’s giving Margaery a ride,” Satin explained.

“Oh. So let’s wait until they arrive.”

“For the love of the Gods, why?”, Myranda asked. “They know their way to the cafeteria, if everything is ready why can’t we just go alre-”

And then Sansa stopped listening at the moment the large glass doors opened to reveal Edric and Margaery.

She didn’t even focus on Edric Dayne’s blonde hair, almost purple eyes, and the pale purple cloak we wore. She could only see Margaery.

She had barely seen her, actually, throughout the whole week, since Margaery had been out a lot with Lysa to meet models, sponsors, Fashion Week organizers, and the tent where the show would take place. She had thought about her, of course, a lot.

The Saturday before, it had taken Sansa every fiber of strength to swallow up her pride and initiate a conversation with one of Margaery’s relatives. She would need a member of her family to help her build her gift; Missandei had offered to talk to one of them, but Sansa refused - she had been the one to pick Margaery’s name on that damn draw, it was her obligation.

So she had searched and found Margaery’s Instagram account which luckily wasn’t private - as Sansa didn’t follow her - and had scrolled through it until she decided to try her luck with a man named Loras, who apparently was a close brother to Margaery. His account was public too, so Sansa sent him a message.

He’d told her Margaery had mentioned her before, and Sansa had frozen - but apparently, Margaery hadn’t said anything particularly awful about her, because her brother had been nothing but kind to Sansa.

He had loved Sansa’s idea and had helped her as much as he could.

Which was why Sansa had spent hours talking to him on that Saturday, added to a few exchanged messages during the following days.

And the thing is… Sansa had created an image of Margaery in her head. As they coexisted in their everyday lives, and with the feud between them, Sansa had this permanent picture of her, of Margaery as a cynical, falsely innocent person who Sansa wouldn’t want to have around… and a small part of her didn’t think she had been _completely_ wrong about it, but she had come to realize that Margaery must have another side.

And as she talked to Loras, this side began to form its shape in Sansa’s mind, with him telling her things about Margaery, things Sansa wouldn’t have dreamed to think of.

Small things, such as the fact that every time Margaery went to her oldest brother’s house, she would instantly throw herself on the floor in order to play with his dogs. No matter what clothes she wore, before getting to talk to anyone else who was there.

Or how she had once taken piano classes solely because she wanted to help her other brother in serenading the girlfriend he wanted to propose to.

Or the fact that she knitted, every year, sweaters for all of her family and close friends when December came. Sweaters in their favorite colors, with their initials on the front and the year on the back.

Or how no one in their family could cook, so back when they spent Christmas together, Margaery took whole responsibility in ordering their breakfast and dinner, making sure everyone got their favorite dish and dessert.

And some big things, like how much she adored her nephew and niece, and how she used to wake up in the middle of the night to forge Santa’s steps around the house with fake snow, leading to their presents, for when they woke up. And how she still talked to them basically every day, even with the distance, and on Christmas sent them two gifts each, one she signed herself and one she would send anonymously, so they would think it was Santa (even though they were twelve now and didn’t quite believe in Santa any longer).

Or how she was so much more insecure than anyone would think, especially regarding her grandmother; how each one of her decisions had been made wanting to make her grandmother proud, and how tiringly afraid she was of failing.

Some many things she’d found out about Margaery, things that had changed her perspective on her and had made her look at her with completely different eyes and had made her curious to learn more.

Which was why she stared at Margaery once she arrived, especially when she got rid of her creamed colored coat and scarf. Small snowflakes fell from her updo, and she was wearing a most beautiful dark blue velvet dress, with a generous cleavage and stopping midthigh.

She was also wearing heels that made her legs look infinite, and Sansa was glad she had chosen heels herself - she didn’t want _not_ to be taller than Margaery.

When Margaery turned to hug the first person next to her - Dacey, from finances - Sansa cleared her throat.

“Guys, please, attention here,” which was needless since everyone was already paying impatient attention to her. “The reason why I wanted to wait for when everyone arrived was… Well, the confraternization dinner is my present. To the person I got on the Secret Santa.”

“Why would you give them something we already have every year?”, Myranda mocked, and Sansa sent her a hard look.

“Okay, so let’s get it started already!”, Nym pleaded.

Sansa nodded and closed her eyes when she remembered that they had to make a little speech about the person they got so the other people could try and guess.

“The person I got… is incredibly hard-working. And as incredibly talented,” she allowed herself the smallest of smiles. “But none of you have ever heard me admitting this until now.”

“It’s Margaery,” Myranda laughed, out loud, and other people followed her.

Margaery looked surprised as she approached Sansa. Not negatively surprised, though.

“Really?”, she asked through a smile.

“Yes.”

“Is it in the cafeteria?”

Sansa stuttered, “Kind of. Uh,” she addressed the rest, “Let’s get going.”

She and Margaery went upstairs, side by side, and she liked how Margaery shot her a few expectant smiles during their way through the large hall that led to the frosted glass doors of the cafeteria.

Missandei must’ve been able to hear them, as the music reached their ears - it was one of the Holidays albums by The Frozen Shore, a Northern jazz group that had become famous fifty years before for their Christmas soundtracks. Sansa noticed how Margaery’s lips opened the slightest in surprise as she recognized it.

And when Sansa got the doors opened, Lady jumped on Margaery. Sansa widened her eyes and tried to help, but Margaery didn’t mind. She kneeled, _on the floor,_ to embrace Sansa’s dog.

“Hey, girl. You look so precious in this Santa outfit.”

Sansa watched carefully as Margaery raised her eyes, and with that, stood up from the floor slowly.

Sansa was vaguely aware of her co-workers talking to Lady, but her focus was much more on Margaery.

On how Margaery now looked decidedly shocked. How she looked around the cafeteria, and Sansa had never seen those eyes shining so brightly.

Loras had told Sansa a lot about how Christmas at their home was. And had sent her multiple pictures.

Trying to transform the cafeteria into something that reminded Margaery of her home hadn’t been as hard as Sansa had imagined it at first. 

No matter how wealthy the Tyrells were, they evidently didn’t like to spend that much on Christmas decorations. Most of the lights were of a brownish color Sansa didn’t particularly care for, but she used them anyway. The tree was not big, and its ornaments and hanging pieces were pretty, but generic, cheap, and easy to find, as were the garlands, ropings, swags, and wreaths that were hanged around the room.

The trickiest part had been to find a damn cheap Nutcracker figure and a ridiculous plastic standing reindeer. Oh, and a Santa outfit big enough for Lady - Loras had mentioned their brother would dress his dogs in those and Sansa hadn’t been able to keep the image of Lady in an outfit like that out of her mind.

And the food of course, but Sansa was a great cook and was usually the one to cook for her family. And she’d had a lot of help from her lovely neighbor who had made some of the desserts and helped with a few other dishes.

“Sansa, I-”

Sansa had been so focused on Margaery’s features she hadn’t realized Margaery was now staring directly at her, her eyes huge and the most confused look on her face.

“Is that…”, she trailed off when she noticed the small couch Sansa and Missandei had dragged to the cafeteria. Spread around it, a few sweaters sent by her family members.

That had been Loras’ idea, the first one they had settled on - he’d talked to his relatives on that very first day and asked each one to lend one of the sweaters Margaery had knitted them in the previous years, and they had arrived through the mail that morning.

Margaery looked up at her, so, so expressive, an incredulous laugh leaving her. “How?”

Sansa noticed how no one else was paying attention to them; Missandei was talking to some people, probably explaining to them the idea behind all of that, and most of them were all too focused on the pre-dinner snacks, on pouring Arbor Gold for themselves and on playing with Lady.

“I talked to your brother Loras,” she revealed.

“Loras?”, Margaery’s eyebrows were up to her hairline. 

“Yes,” Sansa chuckled. “He gave me all the information I needed, to do all of that. And Missandei helped me a lot, too.”

Margaery shot her friend a shocked glance and looked intensively at Sansa again. “I can’t believe you did all of this.”

 _Neither do I,_ Sansa thought.

“I figured you’d want to feel at home this Christmas.”

The most emotional smile took over Margaery’s face, and she stepped forward, towards Sansa, but the redhead blurted out,

“And that’s not all.”

“What else can there possibly be?”

Sansa grabbed her phone and forwarded the video Loras had sent her, days before, to Margaery.

Margaery then seized her own phone, and Sansa bit her lip as she watched her.

_“Hey, Aunt Margie!”_

Sansa had watched it only a couple of times, but she remembered it. Margaery’s nephew and niece, her parents, grandmother, and her three brothers. All of them had sent a video, a loving message to Margaery. And once it was over, Margaery lifted her eyes to Sansa again. A thin layer of tears covering them.

Sansa had wondered how Margaery’s reaction would be. How she would thank Sansa. She’d concluded Margaery would be grateful and would let her know that, but she also thought the moment would be a bit awkward - they had been everything but friendly for years.

Which was why she was surprised when Margaery, without another word, crossed her arms around Sansa and pulled her into the tightest embrace.

For some reason, Sansa’s heart was hammering in her chest, as she felt Margaery’s hands caressing her back, as she felt the mix of Margaery’s fancy perfume and the smooth vanilla shampoo scent of her hair.

She closed her eyes, and almost silently gasped when Margaery whispered in her ear, “Thank you so, so, so incredibly much, Sansa.”

She stepped backward, creating some distance between them. “This is the best, most thoughtful, and amazing thing someone has ever given me. I truly can’t believe that you, out of all people,” she chuckled, “Would have done this for me.”

Sansa shrugged and smiled. “I’m very much a perfectionist and I like to impress. You should’ve known that by now.”

Margaery laughed. “Well, I’m a bit embarrassed about my gift, now. It can’t be compared to yours, I’m certain of it.”

Was it wrong that that affirmation actually made Sansa even happier? Margaery Tyrell was admitting Sansa had been better than her at something. She wouldn’t forget that any time soon.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she joked, and Margaery smirked. For once, Sansa wasn’t annoyed by it.

“Well, you are the only one who can tell me.”

It took Sansa a few seconds to understand what that meant.

“Guys,” Margaery called the attention of the rest. “Now I have to give my gift.”

“So,” she began, her eyes glued to Sansa, her lips firmly curled in that smirk. “The person I got… Is hard-working, just like I am. As talented as I am. Looks ravishing in blue,” she looked at Sansa up and down. “Is one of the best artists I’ve ever met. And the very best at giving presents.”

“Oh my Gods, it’s Sansa? Are you serious?”, Myranda exclaimed, and Margaery shot an ironic look.

But then, “Yes, it is!”, she smiled even wider, and Sansa heard their co-workers commenting on the coincidence, while she herself could hardly believe it.

What were the fucking odds, she wondered, as she looked around Margaery only to realize she wasn’t carrying anything with her.

All she did was type something on her phone. “Check your email.”

Sansa did. She had just received a forwarded mail from Margaery.

Gods. No. That couldn’t be it.

**From:** Margaery Tyrell <margaery.tyrell@ltdesigns.com>

 **To:** Sansa Stark <sansa.stark@ltdesigns.com>

 **Date:** December 19th, 2020 at 20:46

 **Subject:** Fwd: Congratulations!

 **Forwarded from:** Renly Baratheon <r.baratheon@stormlandsreview.com>

Dear Sansa Stark,

Congratulations! We’ve read (and reread, and reread…) your extraordinary, stunningly written story _Lights of the Maiden’s Tower_. What a beautiful piece about sweet Alayne, a character we loved from the first paragraph.

We can’t wait to have your story as a part of our 2020 Christmas collection. We will publish it on the December 23rd _Stormlands Review_ edition, and in February, it will be one of the tales from our winter anthology, _Once in the Snow._

Attached to this message you will find further information, including my direct contact.

Best regards,

Renly Baratheon

**Editor-in-chief of Stormlands Review**

**Chief Content Officer for Stormlands Daily**

  
  


Her hands were almost trembling as she stared at the screen.

No.

How.

How.

What?

She, no, her story- The story she’d put an unbelievable amount of effort on. The one she’d been writing, rewriting, editing, and reviewing for three years now. It was going to get published.

At one of the biggest magazines in the country. At _the_ best magazine for any author, not only new ones.

She’d tried before. She’d tried to send some of her stories to the Stormlands Review, but it would never work. She would never get a response. She’d read on the internet that it was nearly impossible to reach them since they didn’t only publish stories from unknown authors but also famous ones. She had never succeeded, and that’s because she had the advantage of having met Renly once - he was the brother of her father’s friend.

And now. It wouldn’t just be published in the magazine - it would be featured on the fucking winter anthology they launched every _three years_. That was- no-

“Margaery,” she all but gasped. “How did you do this?”

Her voice was so weak, but Margaery still heard it. She was grinning when she answered,

“You weren’t the only one who got help from Loras. He’s been dating Renly Baratheon, the-”

“Chief editor of Stormlands Review,” she whispered.

“Exactly,” she giggled at Sansa’s state.

“I… I don’t remember seeing that on his Instagram.” Sansa wasn’t even sure of what she was saying.

Margaery shrugged. “It’s a considerably recent affair.” And then she smiled. “But luckily for us, serious enough for him to want to please Loras by doing his little sister the favor of simply reading the story she’d sent him. And then his acceptance was immediate.”

Sansa shook her head. “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” she laughed. “They loved your story, Sansa. After reading it, Renly told me he would only have to send it to the people directly responsible for publishing it, and three hours later he sent me a message telling me it had been decided.”

Sansa was in awe and she seriously didn’t know what to say. She was at a loss for words, and all that she could come up with was, “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Margaery’s smile meant so much Sansa couldn’t even gather. “That makes two of us.”

And suddenly Sansa understood Margaery’s impulse from before. She had no hesitation when she pulled Margaery to herself, melting on the feeling of her skin again, on her scent. She didn’t even want to let go until,

“Okay, that’s cute. But you two are not the only ones who get to have presents,” Rhaenys joked, gently separating them.

Slowly, they all took their seats at the long table. Sansa was sitting across from Margaery and after all of that she found it hard to look away from her even when she heard Missandei’s,

“So the lucky one who has me as Secret Santa is…”

“... the funniest person in this place. Someone I like to talk to about everything… expect my secrets!”

Missandei got Myranda. She gave her the most spectacular pair of black boots from Stones, the Vale’s best shoe designer.

Myranda got Wynafryd Manderly, a model, and gave her a bottle of whisky she went nuts about.

And then Margaery just couldn’t keep track.

She couldn’t, because she didn’t even know where she wanted to look at. If she looked around, to the decoration and details that reminded her so much of her home… Or if she looked at Sansa.

Sansa, who looked out of this world in that dress. Sansa, who had given her the most considerate thing she’d ever received. Sansa, whose arms she’d felt so good inside, just minutes before. Sansa who had looked at her with the most gorgeous blue eyes, imploring and grateful.

Sansa who she had never _truly_ hated, but had never cared about before. Who had hurt her just a week before.

Who had shocked her like no one else had.

Yeah, it was hard to look away from Sansa. Especially when the redhead noticed Margaery’s staring, and blushed preciously before focusing back on her food.

The food was delicious, by the way, the turkey was just how she liked it, as were the other dishes, dishes she recognized as some of the ones she would order back home - mayo salad, festive rice with nuts and raisins, among others.

She’d just finished her chocolate trifle when she stood from the table and went toward Lady.

Sansa’s dog had been as quiet and well mannered as a dog could be throughout dinner, playing with a snowman toy.

The few times Sansa had taken her to the atelier before, Margaery had wanted to play with her, but it was not like she and Sansa had that rapport.

But now she sat on the floor to pet the dog that licked her hands.

Two minutes went by before she heard Sansa’s voice from behind her, “She likes you.”

Margaery smiled, and Sansa sat next to them.

“Thankfully she and her owner are not the same.”

Sansa gave a small chuckle, scratching her dog’s belly.

“I forgot to ask you,” she started. “How did you know about my story? And how did you get access to it?”

Margaery smirked. “I think you can come to that conclusion on your own.”

It only took Sansa three seconds to spin her head around to where Myranda was sitting, drinking Arbor Gold and talking animatedly with their friends.

“I can’t believe she gave you my computer password!”

Margaery giggled. “Don’t worry, she didn’t. She put it herself, and carefully observed me while I sent the story to myself.”

“Good to know I can trust her enough to have stopped you in case you decided to send something inappropriate to anyone or to delete my files.”

Margaery’s jaw fell in indignation. “When I do this I’ll be sure to keep a better trail than asking your best friend for your password.”

Sansa chuckled. “And now you’ve let me know you’re planning it. I’ll plan some wrong deeds against you too, that way we can do the opposite of what we did today.”

They both giggled at that, and Lady jumped on their laps, trying to get more attention to herself.

“You know,” Sansa said. “It’s intriguing. Thinking that we both received the best gifts of our lives from people we didn’t like until then.”

“Aw, until then?”, Margaery teased. “Does that mean you like me now?”

Sansa’s small smile never left her. “I’m open to the possibility, yes.”

“Good. Because I never disliked you that much, Sansa Stark.”

Sansa crooked her head, gazing at Margaery like she didn’t believe it.

“I’m serious,” Margaery vowed. “I like to compete with you. You drive me to be better. And I think I do the same to you.”

Sansa agreed, even if she seemed reluctant for a second. “Yes. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are a bitch sometimes.”

Margaery smirked. “I am. But so are you.” Sansa’s agreement was less hesitating now.

“And I like it.”

Sansa was surprised when she looked at her, and Margaery explained. “I love how you look when you’re pissed. I mean, you’re gorgeous all the time, but there’s something about the way you clench your jaw and furrow your right brow when you’re bothered that I very much enjoy seeing.”

Sansa’s startled expression was even more present now as she stared at Margaery. But unlike what Margaery had predicted, Sansa didn’t blush. Merely stayed still for a long moment before saying,

“Perhaps that was an appeal to me too. You also look good when you’re mad. I’d never thought about it, but maybe unconsciously that was the reason why I never tried to put our banter to an end.”

Margaery recovered from the shock of the way Sansa was responding to her move fairly quickly.

“I’m sure your annoyed countenance is not your only highlight. Now that we will be _liking_ each other, I’m looking forward to discovering new ones.”

The faintest, almost imperceptible blush covered Sansa’s cheeks then, but still not what Margaery expected.

“So will I. The ones I got a glimpse of today had me curious.”

Margaery let out a disbelieving small chuckle. They stayed quiet for a minute, Margaery at one point smoothly brushing her hand against Sansa’s while they stroked Lady. And then Sansa said,

“I would like to get to know you better, Margaery.” Her voice was serious, as were her eyes, Margaery noticing them once she moved her gaze from Lady to Sansa again.

“Me too. I think we spent too much time only knowing one side of one another.”

“Exactly.” Sansa seemed unsure then. “Perhaps we could, uh, next week, if you had the time to, I mean, I know you are extremely busy until Janua-”

“Drinks after work?”

Sansa smiled in what seemed like a relief. “Yes. On Monday? At the Moongate pub?”

Margaery petted Lady one last time before standing up.

“Perfect. I’m exceptional at dates, I must say. Let’s see if you can top me at that too.”

The look at Sansa’s face on those words was just another gift Margaery got that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!


End file.
